Left Behind"
by Dantzi Jean
Summary: For she too must face the fact that eventually we all are...left behind


Left Behind

Title: "Left Behind"  
  
Author: Dantzi Jean  
  
E-mail: phantom_lass@hotmail.com  
  
Website: "My Voice in the World of Fanfiction"  
[http://www.geocities.com/myxfvoice][1]  
  
Rating: PG-13, adult content, death  
  
Category: short story, Scully Angst, MSR, Mulder death  
  
Feedback: Oh god, please people, I live on the stuff.  
  
Timeline: Six months after Mulder's death, no baby exists...yet  
  
Spoilers: A small, tiny mention of FTF  
  
Disclaimer: Everything mentioned pertaining to the X-Files and its   
characters does not belong to me and I am not profiting off its use.  
  
Archive: If you want it please ask for it. Thanks!  
  
Summary: For she too must face the fact that eventually we all are...left   
behind  
  
Author's Notes: Okay, people I know I swore never to write main stream   
fanfic but this is a monolouge I perform and it only occured to me last   
night to turn in into a fanfic, the monolouge is original although not based   
in real life. As to the death of Mulder, I know for a fact that it is not   
true and despite what we may see in future episodes he is dead in this   
world. Also in this fic Scully's child does not yet exsist and there is not   
mention of it here. Everyone Enjoy!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Left Behind"  
  
  
She placed a heeled foot on the  
hard pavement and lifted herself  
from the vehicle. The familiar and  
heavy weight already pressing down  
on her small, frail shoulders. The  
mist in the air enveloped her and  
brushed her face as a lover's caress.  
  
Her heels gently rapped on the ground,  
the only sound of her coming. She  
opened the gate and walked to the morbidly  
familiar spot. Her heels sank into the  
ground as she walked; the damp, wet  
grass leaving stains on her black shoes.  
  
Her face was a mask; she was dead, cold,  
unfeeling, blank, barren, and lifeless.  
She carried nothing but the world. The  
heavy burden of her sadness making her  
weary, the darkness under her eyes and  
her slumped shoulders were the only  
testament to her grave load.  
  
She approached the well-known spot in  
the small cemetery where his headstone  
stood. A silent testament to the thriving  
life that it represented.  
  
Her arms crossed and her face grave she  
addressed the stone lying silent in  
the ground, "Six months...six months  
you've lain in that coffin, six months  
since your funeral, six months since  
your death." Her fists clenched at her  
sides at her thoughts. "Six, long, hard,  
painful, months."  
  
"I stand here knowing that somewhere  
underneath that pile of dirt, you lie.  
I know you're there. I couldn't stand  
here if it weren't true. Mulder..."  
  
She knelt to the ground where his  
headstone stood, silent and unmoving.  
"I see your headstone. Beautiful granite  
with your names and dates carved  
beautifully into them."  
  
Then, she stood as if the headstone were  
disgusting and repulsive. "And even a  
little passage that you now reside in  
peace. That you are now in a better place.  
Peace?! You are in peace? A better place..."  
  
"How is it that you can lie there in peace  
while I am in hell?! Oh yes, Mulder, hell.  
I am in hell. I see the mourning faces of  
the people we knew. I see the sorrow and  
pity in their faces, in their eyes. That,  
to me, is hell, Mulder. I face these people  
every day; I have to see this every day.  
And it tears me apart knowing that the  
look I witness is there because you are  
no longer by my side."  
  
A slow gentle tear flirted with her eye  
but she held it back, pride forcing a  
barrier around her heart. She stood back  
and took a breath, trying desperately to  
keep her fragile composure.  
  
"You took everything from me, you left me  
blind, deaf, lost. I can't find anything  
to fight for. You left me with no drive,  
no passion, and no direction. I cannot  
trust myself anymore. But not only did you  
take these things from me, Mulder. You too  
my heart from me, as well. And now here I  
stand, an empty shell of the woman you knew."  
  
Her voice sounded dejected but determined  
at the same time. She knew of her monumental  
burden and prepared herself to shoulder  
it alone.  
  
"Why must I go through this? Why did you  
have to sacrifice yourself? You should  
have sacrificed me to your quest; it was  
as much mine as it was yours. Did you  
know that? Or did you feel that you were  
alone? I never really knew. Why did you  
make me so devoted to you?" Her voice  
lowered to almost a whisper. "Why did you  
make me love you?"  
  
Silence greeted the woman standing at the  
grave. It haunted her; teased her. And made  
her fully aware of her pain.  
  
"You should have taken me with you. We were  
partners. That coffin should have been mine."  
Her voice was filled with reproach and disdain.  
  
The mist coated the woman's face and hands  
as she stood on the damp, cold ground. Her  
face was a mask of pain and longing.  
  
"Mulder, I was no meant to exist without  
you. I should not be here, I have no right.  
This was your quest and your life's work,  
and then you made it mine. You had no right  
to take that away from me, it was my life's  
work, my crusade. And now..." She paced not  
knowing exactly what to say. She was lost,  
completely lost.  
  
"I saw you walk away from me, Mulder.  
I saw you go to place I could not go. I  
would dare no go. You walked away from me,  
I saw you slowly moving further and further  
into that dark place. You didn't look  
behind you to see me, I was still there,  
lost...waiting...alone. And you left me.  
You left me behind! You left me to face  
life, a life I could no longer have without  
you. I knew that after Dallas, after your  
daring crusade to find me and bring me back.  
I could never leave your side. I never  
considered you might leave mine."  
  
With this, the tear that held the fragile  
balance on her eyelid escaped and in an  
angry gesture, she wiped it away with the  
heel of her palm. She was angry. Angry at  
herself, angry with him for doing this,  
for his damn quest.  
  
"I have one more question for you, Mulder.  
And maybe in some small way I already know  
the answer. Why is it, I still love you,  
after you left me behind?"  
  
At her words, she bent down the grave,  
her palms gently caressing the soft grass  
beneath her fingers, wet with dew and the  
shower of mist still falling. Her hands  
moved in slow and small circles as if  
touching the ground, which covered him,  
would leave her with some small measure  
of a response.  
  
She rose, quickly, as if afraid that if  
she remained too long she would not be  
able to leave. As she turned to exit the  
cemetery, she saw a dark figure in the  
mist. She moved toward it, knowing with  
certainty who and what the figure was.  
  
The tall man, who felt so responsible for  
the loss the small woman felt at the  
moment walked toward her, and up the grave.  
He placed his arm across her shoulders,  
giving her support.  
  
She let him lead her out of the small cemetery  
and then with slow, and heavy steps, she left  
him behind.  
  
  
  
***********THE END*************************

   [1]: http://64.4.16.250/cgi-bin/linkrd?_lang=EN&lah=bfeddb2bcec1601ab6d6c1a99aa47220&lat=985735756&hm___action=http%3a%2f%2fwww%2egeocities%2ecom%2fmyxfvoice



End file.
